


Cupcakes

by PrettyWhizzer (NargleAdvocate)



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Cupcakes, Eating Disorders, Fat Shaming, I'm sorry this angsty thing had to come from that stream lol, I've never binge ate with cupcakes so idk how much is a valid amount sorry, Michael has body issues poor guy, Remake of Michael in the bathroom, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, The cupcakes Lin gave George were amazing though, This was meant to be vaguely funny and cute but nope it's so sad, Unhappy Ending, Vomiting, binge eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NargleAdvocate/pseuds/PrettyWhizzer
Summary: Short drabble based on George Salazar's 8/5/17 Instagram stream.Michael brought cupcakes to the Halloween party, because maybe this would go well for once, but then Jeremy yelled at him and he was left alone with them in that dim bathroom.





	Cupcakes

Michael stared the door where Jeremy had just stormed out of. Loser. The word reverberated in his mind. Loser. Loser. Loser. He wanted to cry. Fuck, his best friend was abandoning him and he couldn't do anything about it.

He pulled his backpack off the bathroom sink and sunk down to the floor, leaning up against the wall. He stared at the backpack for a few minutes. He could feel the tears running down his cheeks. He shouldn't, he really shouldn't, but...

Unzipping his backpack, he pulled out a box and laid it on the bathroom floor. His chest was heaving and he felt sick, but yet, he still opened the box and pulled out a cupcake. A simple, vanilla cupcake, with unnaturally green frosting and tiny weed sprinkles (that sadly didn't actually have any weed in them; he could go for getting high at the moment) on the top. He didn't expect to be using them for that moment. He didn't want to use them for that moment. But his hand moved on it's own, and the taste of vanilla and artificial sugar exploded in his mouth. It made him feel better and even worse at the same time.

Soon, the cupcake was gone. So he pulled out a second one. Also a vanilla one, but it was bright pink and had normal white sprinkles. He slowly peeled off the wrapper and ate that one too, feeling the frosting get over his face.

And he kept going, and his movements fades out of his awareness in favor of other thoughts, ones he didn't want to think of. Jeremy was out there, enjoying himself, and Michael was sitting on a bathroom floor stuffing his face. Fuck. He was doing this again. The tears came back, but Michael didn't want to try to wipe them away, because that would smear frosting under his eyes and he already felt disgusting enough.

Loser. Gross. Disgusting. He was alone at a party. He should have just stayed home, stayed in bed, or offed himself instead, because obviously he wasn't needed anymore! He cried again, and the taste of chocolate invaded his mouth, and his stomach churned with nausea. How many had eaten? A glance at the box revealed he had eaten four. There were two left. Fuck, that was so much sugar, what the fuck.

There was a loud banging at the door. Michael whimpered and curled in on himself. If anyone came in at that moment, they would see how disgusting he was, how he was left alone and this was how he reacted. Loser. Loser. Loser. No wonder he was chubby. 

Eventually the banging went away. Thank fuck. He had a headache and felt sick. This night was going stunningly. He stared at the last cupcake in the box and tried to convince himself not to eat it. He wouldn't feel any better if he did. Jeremy wouldn't come back if he did. The carbs and sugar would be horrible for him. Cupcakes were like, 500 calories, and he had already eaten five. But the depression and loneliness kept pooling in his stomach, and he grabbed the cupcake and ate it anyways. He hated himself.

Michael sat there, staring at the ceiling, swallowing every two seconds to keep back the nausea. Loser. Loser. Such a fucking loser. He felt extremely bloated, and all he wanted to do was throw up, but then he'd be even more gross, and Jeremy would hate him more, and shit there were tears again. He wiped his hands against his jacket before attempting to stand up, groaning at the pressure in his stomach. This was a horrible idea. Why had he done that? He moved over to the sink, and turned the faucet on, listening to the water run. He probably needed water, if his body was going to digest that at all. 

After splashing water in his face, Michael took a deep breath, and felt slightly better. He stared into the mirror, and noticed that the crumbs and frosting around his mouth had gone away. Good. He wanted to get rid of what he had just done. He wanted to go home. Picking up his backpack, he opened the bathroom door slowly, wincing at the loud music and chatter that surrounded him. He stood there for a moment, afraid everyone would know what he had just done, but no one even batted an eye at him. Right. He was the invisible loser. No one cared, not even Michael.

God, he needed to get out of there and get high. But he knew it would make him eat more, and the thought turned him off smoking for the night. He just needed to sleep, he was exhausted. Michael took one last glance up the stairs, wondering where Jeremy was, before making his way through the party and out the door. 

Halfway to his house, the trees flying by made him sick again, and he pulled over, coughing. Michael got out of the car and bent over the side of the road, heaving. Shit. Someone was going to drive by. More throwing up. Gross. Snot poured out of his nose and tears gathered in his eyes. Disgusting. He could still taste some of the sugar from the frosting. Loser. He kept going until there was nothing left, and then some. He pulled himself up and cursed the day he was born. He wished he had brought some water with him. 

Glancing up at the stars, Michael wondered what sort of friendship was worth this.


End file.
